The conversation drifted after that, mostly Nina and the kids carrying it. Diana answered their questions politely, Max chimed in when needed, but the air between the two adults stayed awkward in a way neither of them was used to.

Eventually, Terra set down her fork and slumped back in her chair.

“I’m stuffed,” she groaned dramatically. “Like… actually dying.”

“Same,” Thena said, patting her stomach. “If I don’t lie down now, I might explode. And we have school tomorrow.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Hold it. Table manners. You don’t just—”

“They can go,” Nina cut in smoothly before he could finish. “It’s fine. They’re kids.”

Thena and Terra didn’t wait for him to change his mind,they were already halfway to the hallway.

“Goodnight!” Terra waved.

“Night! Aunt Nina, remember,you promised Shinobi world stories!” Thena called from down the hall.

“I remember,” Nina said, smiling as they disappeared.

Then she turned to Max… and smirked.

“Well… I’m also stuffed. And I owe the girls their bedtime stories, so,I’ll leave you two to talk.”

She pushed her chair back, stood, and began walking off with suspicious elegance.

“Don’t wait up,” she sang over her shoulder.

Max closed his eyes. “She’s doing this on purpose.”

“Yes,” Diana agreed, equally resigned. “It’s obvious.”

Silence fell again

Max exhaled slowly, bracing himself.

“Look… we need to talk.”

Diana set her fork down, her expression.

“Yes. We do.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, searching for words.

“We started on the wrong foot—and stayed there.I think we’ve been at each other’s throats long enough.”

He lifted his gaze. “So… I’d like us to put our past grievances aside and start fresh.”

Diana nodded once, quietly.

“I agree.”

Max took a breath, straightening in his chair like he was about to introduce himself on stage.

“Alright.”

He pointed at himself.

“My name is Max Schiller. I’m thirty-eight years old. I like fighting and getting stronger.”

He cleared his throat. “As for my dislikes ,I hate pickles and scary movies.”

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of Diana’s mouth.

“Noted.”

Max raised a brow.

“Your turn.”

Diana folded her hands.

“My name is Diana. Princess of Themyscira,” she corrected with a small smirk, “but I suppose ‘Diana Prince’ works in this setting.”

“I’m… older than you think.”

Max snorted. “Yeah, I figured.”

She continued, “I like peace. And honesty. And I dislike cruelty… and being misunderstood.”

Max nodded slowly.

“If you don’t mind me asking… where do you come from? Who trained you to be the warrior you are today?” Diana asked, her tone gentle but curious.

“You mean my origin, huh?” Max replied.

“Yes.”

Max paused. For a moment, he debated whether he should tell her anything at all. His true real-world origin? That was a secret he would take to the grave, he was sure that not even Nina knows about it and she never will. But the rest… it didn’t really matter if she knew.

Seeing his hesitation, Diana offered a small, understanding smile. “It’s fine if you don’t want to share. I’m not exactly proud of parts of my past either.”

“No, it’s fine,” Max said with a sigh. “But… are you sure you want to hear it? It’s a long story.”

“I’m not in a hurry,” she assured him.

“Heh. Fine then.”

He lifted his head, meeting her gaze.

“The truth is…” Max said slowly, “I’m not from this world.”

“What do you mean, not from this world?” Diana asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“I… I don’t really know how to explain it properly,” Max said, his voice low, tinged with a distant pain. “It was a world… similar to this one, but different in so many ways. Constant wars, endless suffering, despair everywhere… in simple terms… it was a hell.”

——————-

The president and General Lane stood side by side, the only conscious people left. Around them, Secret Service agents and officials lay sprawled on the floor, each felled by a needle dart.

“What do you mean by ‘I want it all’?” General Lane asked, eyes narrowing.

“It means exactly what it sounds like,” Pain replied. “But for now, I’ll ask very little from Madam President here.” He tilted his head. “So it would be best if you went to sleep.”

One of his operatives flicked a dart. It struck Lane’s neck; he collapsed in seconds.

“What have you done to them?” the president demanded, voice trembling.

“They’re fine,just unconscious. Your response will determine whether it stays that way or not. The same applies to you.”

“What do you want?” she asked.

“I want to change the world,” Pain said. “And I’ll start with the United States—since everything seems to revolve around it. Nations suffer because their leaders allow rot to spread. Madmen and criminals escape your prisons every week. What have you done to stop it? Nothing. They return, again and again, to harm the people you swore to protect.”

The president swallowed. “We’re doing everything we—”

“No,” Pain cut her off. “You’re not even trying. Corruption saturates this country. It’s so blatant the word corruption feels too polite. Everything is compromised. Even you.”

He stepped closer.

“So here is what I’m going to do: I will purge every corrupt official. I will hunt down the monsters your inadequate systems fail to contain. I will rebuild the entire structure so justice becomes absolute.” His gaze fixed on her. “And you will oversee the legal reconstruction—laws, policy, and the public mindset. Cooperation is optional. If you refuse, I can put you down now and try the next person in your line of succession. They may be more compliant. So… what will it be?”

“I… accept,” the president whispered.

A soft beep echoed from Pain’s mask. He tapped the side of his helmet.

“Lord Pain, we have company. Justice League inbound—less than five minutes,” Mad Hatter reported through comms.

Pain turned back to the president.

“It seems this meeting ends here. The League is almost at your doorstep. And you already understand what happens if you say a word about me.”

“I won’t,” she said quickly.

“Good.” Pain nodded. “I’ll be in touch.”

He turned and strode out, his masked followers trailing behind him. The president exhaled in a shuddering rush and collapsed to the floor as they left the panic room.

Two minutes later after they left.the reinforced ceiling of the underground panic room groaned and caved in as superman tore through it ,his eyes glowing red, batman and green lantern entered through the cut out hole on the reinforced door ,flash following shortly after in a burst of speed.

“No signs of the intruders anywhere in the building,” Flash reported, stopping beside Batman with a frown. “Either they teleported or they knew the layout better than we do.”

Batman crouched beside an unconscious official, plucking a slim metal dart from the man’s neck. His jaw tightened.

Superman stepped forward and gently helped the trembling president to her feet. “Madam President, are you hurt?”

She steadied herself and shook her head. “I I’m fine. Just shaken.”

“Did you see who attacked you?” Green Lantern asked. “Anything about what they wanted?”

The president hesitated. Just enough for everyone to notice.

“They wore masks. And… carried swords,” she finally said, voice wavering.

Batman rose slowly. “And what did they want?”

“They didn’t say,” she answered too quickly. “Only that they’d… come for it another time.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed behind the cowl. She was lying.

He tapped his comm. “Cyborg. Topside status.”

“Nothing,” Cyborg replied. “Whoever hit you is long gone. Not even a heat trail to follow.”

Boots thundered down the corridor as heavily armed Secret Service and Navy personnel poured into the cramped room, immediately swarming the president and the unconscious staff.

Batman turned to the others. “We’re done here.”

Superman blinked. “What?”

“She’s hiding something,” Batman said, already moving toward the exit.

Flash exchanged looks with GL and hurried after him. “Hold on—just like that?”

Batman didn’t slow. “The attackers left no real trace. The only person who spoke to them is withholding information. That means staying here is a waste of time.”

Superman caught up, lowering his voice. “Bruce… are you sure?”

“I’m certain,” Batman replied flatly.

Green Lantern floated alongside them. “So she was threatened.”

“Most likely,” Batman said.

“Why would anyone threaten the President?” Flash asked.

GL cut in. “Same reason anyone threatens the person in charge,control. If they wanted her dead, she’d be dead. The fact that she’s alive means whoever did this wants her in their pocket.”

“We can’t assume that,” Superman said, though his voice lacked its usual certainty.

“And we can’t rule it out,” Batman countered. “For all we know, this was a diversion. Something larger could already be underway.”

Batman then turned and resumed walking, but abruptly stopped in front of the massive panic-room door. A perfect circular section.seven inches thick lying on the floor. The cut edges shimmered, unnervingly smooth.

He crouched, gloved fingers tracing the gleaming steel.

Behind him, Superman, Green Lantern, and Flash exchanged puzzled looks. Hal shrugged and stepped closer, followed by Clark and Barry.

“Uh… Batman,” Hal said, hands on his hips, “find anything worth sharing?”

Batman didn’t respond. He stood up slowly, eyes narrowing behind the cowl, then turned toward Barry.

“Flash,” he said, voice low. “What did you notice about the personnel who were taken out?”

Barry swallowed—a tight click in his throat. The image of the hallway he’d run through flashed behind his eyelids: bodies, some merely unconscious… others ruined.

“Most of them were knocked out,” Barry said quietly. “But some of them—”

“Some of them what?” Hal asked.

“Some of them were cut down,” Barry finished. “Literally. One strike. Clean. Like a butcher except… precise.”

Hal went still. Superman’s jaw clenched.

Batman nodded once. “Then we can assume we’re dealing with metas.”

“Why’s that?” Hal asked.

Batman gestured to the severed disk of armored steel. “This door was opened with a blade. Look at the edge ,smooth and uniform, no scorching except at initial contact. That means the blade was heated only enough to penetrate the surface… but the rest of the cut?” He tapped the steel. “Pure physical force. If they relied on heat alone, the weapon would have warped and broken before getting halfway through unless if the blade was made from exotic material which is highly unlikely.”

Superman stepped closer, eyes scanning the metal. “So someone strong enough to cut reinforced steel.”

“Exactly,” Batman said.

Hal crossed his arms. “So are there any suspects? Anyone we know who fits that description?”

Batman’s cape rustled as he turned away from the door. “There are always suspects.”

The three heroes shared uneasy glances as Batman walked ahead, disappearing back into the dim hallway.

End of Chapter .

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